


until the flowers bloom again

by Pterodactyl



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 07:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18068813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodactyl/pseuds/Pterodactyl
Summary: some of maria's thoughts after carol's return.





	until the flowers bloom again

**Author's Note:**

> BRO THE NUMBER OF EMOTIONS I HAVE -  
> my first published mcu fic and it's all cause of these women and their daughter. this is after seeing the film once and i dont remember 90% of the dialogue so please excuse any inaccuracies i'm simply a lesbian doing her best in this world. this is entirely a stream of thought fic written in like three hours i beg of you, be gentle  
> EDIT: IF YOU'RE EXPECTING A SUNSHINE UPDATE IM SORRY IT'S COMING I SWEAR

The moment she saw Carol standing there - as beautiful as she was the day she took that flight into the unknown - there was a fundamental shift in Maria’s universe.

Her first instinct was to run straight into her arms. It had been six long years since she’d last held Carol - last looked into her eyes and heard her voice. But there was something foreign in the way she held herself, a rigidity in her spine and a set to her jaw that was unfamiliar. And as she spoke, it was Carol’s voice but they weren’t her words. Maria could barely keep herself upright, had to hold onto her worktable to keep from collapsing, because the most terrifying thing was the lack of recognition in the eyes of the woman she loved.

Of the millions of times she’d caught Carol’s gaze, there had always been warmth within them. Even during the worst parts, there was always that spark of affection. But now she looks into eyes that regard her with suspicion, with mistrust. Her heart, so suddenly made whole, breaks again.

The story reveals itself in bits and pieces. Monica takes it all in stride, too young to understand the implications. Maria holds her glass of iced tea so tight her knuckles whiten, retells the events of the day that cast a shadow over the rest of her life. Recognition flashes in Carol’s eyes for parts, but her expression towards Maria holds none of the fondness it used to. She sits there, in a home filled with people she doesn’t know, looking at the woman she used to know best, and thinks _what happened to you? Who are you? Why don’t you know me?_

_Why don’t you remember what we had?_

But when Carol leaves the room after the tape of her final moments finishes playing, Maria goes after her. And when she sees the doubt in Carol’s eyes as the green-skinned guy talks, she finally says what she’s been thinking.

She doesn’t know what _Vers_ would do, but she knows what Carol would. And when she says _you were my best friend_ , her voice catches on what she can’t say, can’t risk in front of all of these people she doesn’t know.

Who supported me as a mother.

_Who was there when Monica’s father wasn’t, who changed diapers and sang lullabies and taught my baby how to skip stones._

And a pilot.

_Who pushed me to be better, be brighter, be stronger._

When no one else did.

_When no one else thought I could do it, you did._

You are smart.

_Smart enough to know me better than I know myself._

And funny.

 _The only one who could bring out the sun when the sky got dark_.

And a huge pain in the ass.

_And I love you._

And when she tells Carol that she’s the most powerful person she knew, she means every damn word.

As Maria sits in the cockpit of a craft not meant for the task they’re about to ask of it, she glances sideways at the profile of someone she didn’t know if she’d ever see again and her heart aches with every beat because Carol remembers her, but she doesn’t remember _them_. She remembers Lieutenant Trouble but not that Monica learned to call her Auntie Carol because _Mom_ was too dangerous. She remembers Pancho’s but not the mornings after, she remembers racing to the base but not the reward of the winner.

And Maria wants to tell her, but she doesn’t know this _Vers_ person as well as she’d like, and she knows the rest of the people in this ship even less. So she swallows her pride and her love with it, and puts her hands on the joystick.

“You ladies need me to wish you luck?” Fury says as he climbs into the jet, that orange cat tucked under one arm. Carol glances sideways, smirks the way she used to, and says;

“I don’t need luck. I got a co-pilot.”

The words _I love you_ are on Maria’s lips, but she swallows them and smiles. “You ready?”

And Carol says, “Higher, further, faster, babe.”

So that’s what they do. And even though now Carol can punch fire and _fly_ , it’s like being in the cockpit with her all over again. Maria feels ten years younger, pulling maneuvers the plane in her workshop couldn’t do in a million years, and she thinks that maybe - maybe it’s not so bad that Carol doesn’t remember them. Maybe they can just start over.

Swiftly she sees that will not be possible.

With the old Carol, yes, absolutely. They could start again from the beginning, and Maria would be content to play the part of the close friend until Carol remembered. But this is a new person, with new powers and new priorities. Suddenly a single mother and daughter in Louisiana aren’t quite so important. There’s a whole race of people at risk, and Carol - well. Maria knows her. She could never stand by when there were people to save.

As she watches the bright white trail streak across the sky, Maria clutches the shard of metal that was once all remained of her Carol and tries to breathe through the heavy ache in her chest.

After six years certain that Carol was out there, somewhere, too damn stubborn to die but too proud to ask for help, she never could have guessed that the woman who had been her closest confidant for her whole life would somehow come back _more_ than she was before. She never could have guessed that no more than 36 hours later, she’d be gone again.

“Mom?”

Maria jolts out of her thoughts as Monica tugs her sleeve. “I’m sorry, baby, what did you say?”

“I said can we go inside?” Monica folds her arms, “I’m cold.”

Maria takes one last glance at the sky, wonders which star is her lover.

“Sure,” she says, puts her hands on her daughters shoulders, “Come on. Time for bed.”

“Auntie Carol’s coming back, right?” Monica asks, “She said she would.”

“Sure she will, sweetie,” Maria says, “She’ll come visit.”

“Okay,” Monica bounces up and kisses her on the cheek, “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Maria says faintly, and watches her daughter skip down the hallway to her room.

She turns back to the window, leans against the doorway, and whispers _I love you_ to the stars.


End file.
